


Kiss the Ghost

by WL_Erkling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WL_Erkling/pseuds/WL_Erkling
Summary: The Order asked him. He’s not sure he can. After so long—can he?[Post-Hogwarts Wolfstar]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JJ24601 (MrsLongbottom)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsLongbottom/gifts).



> Thanks to olivieblake for being a wonderful beta

Disclaimer: Characters, settings, and themes from the Harry Potter universe are property of J.K Rowling. I make no profit from the writing or sharing of this story.

 

 

“Remus, there’s something else.”

 

He turns at the voice, ready to leave Grimmauld place and be home for the evening.

 

“What can I help with, Dumbledore?”

 

As he makes his way back into the room, he hears a whisper, the soft echoes of a voice he hasn’t heard for so long he knows he’s imagining it. Remus closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment.

 

“Are you all right, Remus?”

 

“Yes, I just thought I heard—oh, never mind.” He looks up and out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of black shaggy hair and a sly grin. Remus gasps, knees buckling beneath him.

 

“Remus?” The voice is tentative, unsure. He coughs to clear his throat, tries again. “Moony?”

 

Remus looks from Dumbledore to Alastor to the ghost in the corner. “Is he—can you—”

 

“He’s here, Remus,” Dumbledore answers him, grounding him back to the room in Grimmauld where he can smell the dust. At the confusion on his face, the grey wizard continues, “We decided to keep him out of Order business for now. He needs a place to stay.” He looks over his glasses at Remus. “As I recall, the two of you used to get along quite well. Do you think he could stay with you?”

 

Remus doesn’t look at the man in the corner, can’t acknowledge him.

 

“H-how?”

 

His entire world has just been spun hard on its axis and he’s not sure how many moons there will be once it settles.

 

A grunt comes from the corner and they shift to look at Moody. “Pettigrew turned on you lot.” Remus’ mouth gapes now, but Alastor ignores him. “He turned you over to the Dark Lord and chewed his finger off to make it look like Black’d done it.” He grunts when he looks at Sirius. “This one tracked him down.”

 

Remus is thankful there’s a chair at hand when he sinks onto the arm. He thinks back to the young Sirius Black, full of life and ready to take on the world. He thinks of that Halloween night when he’d lost everything— _everything_ —to this monster before him. He shakes his head and thinks of all the nights he’s spent walking the halls of his house, checking rooms and casting charms to be sure they were wizard—and animagus— _free_. He remembers the way his feet ache in the mornings because he’s gotten no sleep, but he’s had to work anyway. Remus is trying to reconcile all those people with the—can he be called a man?—in front of him. It doesn’t work and he’s falling into himself until Moody’s cane strikes the floor in impatience.

 

All Remus can do is nod at the waiting wizard.

 

“He can go with you now, then?” Moody says. “Some of the others are staying after and we’d rather he wasn’t spotted.”

 

Sirius steps around them toward Remus, who nods absently, as if doing so will keep him from panicking. Remus says nothing as he reaches out, lays a hand on his arm and disapparates them. When they reach his little house, Remus pulls away and opens the door, leaving it open behind him.

 

++

 

Remus has a life and a lover, both of which he tries to keep from Sirius. He can’t bring that little bit of happiness into the house which is full of a pain he can’t name. He stays away most nights, leaving Sirius to do as Sirius is wont to do.

 

There is a night when Sirius traps him, waits until he’s making tea in the kitchen and steps up behind him. He can’t move and he’s afraid to turn around.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” It’s a soft question, one full of more than the words he’s asking and Remus’s spoon stops stirring in the milk. It rests against the mug with a clink. “Is it too much?”

 

He turns around then, stares hard at Sirius in a pair of Remus’ old pajamas. Rolling the bitterness on his tongue, he’s deciding whether he can swallow it.

 

Sirius turns to leave, but Remus’ fingers—the grip too tight around his elbow—stop him. He spins, the shadows dancing across Remus’ face scaring him more than anything the wolf’s ever done. Remus’ jaw works for a moment to get the words out, but he manages.

 

“I-I do want you here. I’m just trying to reconcile… everything.” He pauses, his tea forgotten behind him and it’s a harsh reminder of the things standing between them. “I just need some time.”

 

Sirius barks a laugh and it’s oddly reminiscent of Padfoot. Remus quirks a smile and lets go of his arm.

 

“I’ve missed you, Sirius.”

 

The other man cocks his head a bit at Remus’ odd behavior and says, “I’ve missed me, too.”

 

They stare for a moment before the laughter takes them both.

 

++

 

Sirius sits alone on the window ledge in the living room. The window’s propped open so his cigarette smoke can make its way out of the house. His fag shakes against his knuckle, the ash so long it drifts out the window on an updraft and he doesn’t even notice.

 

Instead, he’s too engrossed in the pouring rain, watching as it cascades over the city, washing away the filth and dirt that’s littering the streets. He wants to be out there—out in the rain, so that it can wash away some of the things that are clinging to him—but he can’t. There are so many things he just can’t do.

 

A quick turn of the lock and a crash against the door grab Sirius’ attention. He is hopeful as he looks toward the door, seeing the familiar brown leather duster on Remus, but as he steps backward through the door, it’s obvious he’s not alone. Sirius stills.

 

They’re soaking wet, grinning madly and the other man is trying to feel Remus beneath his patched and worn jacket. It takes a minute, but Remus looks up and sees Sirius. Their eyes meet and Sirius stares hard, secure behind his mask of indifference. Remus gives the unnamed man a quick kiss.

 

“I don’t think my roommate is in the mood for company tonight.” His fingers gently wrapped around the man’s chin tilt him toward Sirius and the man nods, leaning forward for a kiss that looks awkward as Remus stands beneath the weight of another. When he’s out the door, Remus goes to his room, and doesn’t say a word to the man at the window.

 

++

 

In the morning, Remus makes his tea alone. The second cup sits under a warming charm for three hours before he banishes it to the sink for washing. His feet are leaden as he walks to the room Sirius has claimed as his own. Rapping gently on the door, he listens closely. There’s nothing and he tries the handle. It’s locked. There’s no lock on the door, so he frowns at the thought that Sirius felt the need to spell his door shut.

 

Remus leans his forehead against the door and ignores everything screaming inside him. His wand slides easily from his pajama bottoms. When the door opens, it creaks just enough to rouse Sirius. His black hair is tousled in every direction and Remus knows he’s slept poorly. The covers are on the floor and he’s sprawled across the mattress.

 

As Remus steps closer, Sirius curls into himself, huddled like the young boy Remus remembers in the dorms so long ago. Remus slides into the bed behind him, his cool chest contacting the warmth of Sirius and he shivers.

 

Sirius tries to flee. Remus holds him in place.

 

He whispers in his ear, “Easy Pads, it’s just me.” Sirius immediately relaxes—then is angry at himself for doing so.

 

Wrapped in Remus’ arms, he tries to pull away again; when those cage-like arms don’t let him, he instead rolls in the embrace to face Remus. Remus scoots back just enough to look at him. Sirius looks awful; his eyes are blotched and swollen.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Sirius closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Remus trails his fingers up Sirius’ arm, wriggling them in unknown patterns, creating vast pathways from elbow to shoulder. Sirius drowns in the touch. This is too much—just too much.

 

“Remus, stop,” he croaks. His voice is scratchy and raw. Remus stills, waits. Sirius tries to push him away, but Remus doesn’t move.

 

“What’s wrong, Sirius?”

 

He looks at where Remus is touching him and closes his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here, in my bed. You’ve got someone and it’s not—”

 

Remus cuts him off, “You mean John?”

 

Sirius nods.

 

Remus returns his fingers to their previous exploration. It’s Sirius’ turn to shiver. “John and I are… complicated.” Sirius’ brows scrunch, and he doesn’t have to ask. “We’ve been dancing ‘round each other for a while now. It’s just not something either of us plans to push.”

 

“Push?” Sirius questions.

 

Remus shakes his head, drawing his index finger across a shoulder and onto Sirius’ chest. “It’s—we’re—there are some things that just don’t make sense, Pads.”

 

They lay in silence, Remus drawing on Sirius; neither acknowledging the oddity of their half-nakedness.

 

“Remus?”

 

Remus hums an acknowledgment, not looking up from the freckle on Sirius’ chest he’s slowly circling closer to.

 

“Remus, look at me.”

 

Sirius wraps a hand around the fingers on his chest, splaying them flat against his skin, feeling their presence keenly. He’s breathing a bit faster now and he’s not sure why until Remus looks up at him, bright eyes blinking once before locking onto his.

 

His hand moves to touch Remus’ jaw, to trace the angle of it, to finally feel the lines he’s followed so many times from across classrooms, at parties, sitting at James and Lily’s house, in his cell in Azkaban. He closes his eyes hard at the thought, then opens them with tears forming in each. He sees the confusion on Remus’ face—that odd little lip twitch he makes when he’s thinking too hard about something—and the pad of Sirius’ thumb runs along it down to the flush of his lower lip. Remus doesn’t move—can’t move.

 

He’s still thinking too much and Sirius begins to come up on his elbow, braces himself, and leans forward. The whole time, he’s watching Remus for any hint he’ll stop him, hex him, or otherwise keep him from getting any closer.

 

He doesn’t.

 

Instead, Remus parts his lips just enough so they meet on open air, trade the gentle “oh” of confusion meeting bravery and pull apart—leaving a little of themselves behind. Sirius licks his lips and Remus can only lay there, mind whirling in a thousand different directions as he’s questioning everything he knows about Sirius; the last ten minutes, the last twenty-five years.

 

Remus sucks in a breath, closes his mouth, and smiles.

 

“I’m not quite sure what to make of that, Remus. Can you help me out here?”

 

Remus laughs and it’s a tragic sort of laugh that dissolves into sobs and tears are coming so fast—too fast. It’s Sirius who ends up wrapping himself tightly around Remus.

 

“Moony, oh Moony. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell you. I never told you before—I didn’t have the words. I—”

 

 


End file.
